


21-Conjugal Relations

by WritestuffLee



Series: The Warrior's Heart, Volume 4, The Long Shadow [21]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, M/M, POV, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-22
Updated: 2009-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritestuffLee/pseuds/WritestuffLee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boyz have sex, with complications.</p>
            </blockquote>





	21-Conjugal Relations

“That’s it. I’m going to bed,” Qui-Gon said, putting his datapad on the table and getting up from his chair, where he had been reading seminar papers for several hours. Obi-Wan looked up from his sprawled position on the sofa as Qui-Gon loomed over him for a moment, then moved his own datapad aside, tilting his head up as Qui-Gon leaned down to kiss him goodnight. It started as a quick peck, but Obi-Wan curled a hand behind Qui-Gon’s neck to prolong it.

“Mmm, nice,” he murmured when he’d let Qui-Gon go.

Qui-Gon licked his lips and smiled slyly. “Very,” he agreed. “Goodnight, love.”

“What time—hmmm, I had no idea it was so late. What are you doing up yet, Padawan?” Obi-Wan directed this last, with a raised eyebrow, at Jicky, who looked up guiltily from her place on the floor. “Trying to put one over on your master, I presume?”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” she said cheekily, gathering her study materials.

“Tonight,” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But I expect you to be self-disciplined enough to take yourself off to bed without having to be told by me. You know what your curfew is.”

“Yes, Master,” Jicky agreed reluctantly, picking herself and her things up off the floor and heading for her room. “G’night, Masters,” she threw over her shoulder.

“What, no hug?” Qui-Gon grumbled.

With mock reluctancy, Jicky dispensed a round of hugs to both masters, getting a particularly warm one from Obi-Wan, along with a peck to her forehead. “Goodnight, Jicky. Sleep well,” he told her. “And clean your teeth!” Obi-Wan added and watched her until the fresher door closed between them.

“Thinking of joining me?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I’m that transparent, am I?”

“The kiss was a good clue. Coming?” Qui-Gon held out a hand.

“Not yet, but I hope to be soon,” Obi-Wan replied, grinning as he got to his feet. He followed Qui-Gon into their bedroom, hand in hand, turning off the lights in the common room as they went.

Obi-Wan and Jicky had been home for nearly a ten, and Qui-Gon knew it wouldn’t be long before they were called up for another mission. He was glad Obi-Wan was well enough now to be given solo missions again, but they had both been spoiled by his extended leave and the time it allowed them to spend together, even if Obi-Wan had not been entirely well, or particularly happy.

But now he was fit and able and largely content, if not his old self. Qui-Gon knew he would never be that again; the experience of healing himself after a horrific mission gone wrong had, indeed, made him stronger, but had changed him as well. He had learned the same lessons every Jedi in the field did eventually: that the Council was not always right or above sacrificing its own, and the Code was not always strictly applicable. For Obi-Wan, it had been a brutal lesson in shattered idealism, one that had left him reeling for a time, and with a newfound, hard-nosed cynicism that saddened Qui-Gon. If not for Jicky, he suspected it would be far worse. Qui-Gon thanked the Force every day that it had chosen Jicky for her master, as it had chosen the bond between himself and a determined young boy so many years ago.

With that thought, Qui-Gon watched with pleasure as Obi-Wan undressed and went off to wash up, once Jicky had vacated the fresher. After all their years together, he never tired of looking at Obi-Wan’s backside and his unconsciously slinky strut. By the time Obi-Wan emerged from the fresher again, Qui-Gon had doffed his clothing and was waiting to perform his own evening ablutions. Those took only a few minutes, and he found Obi-Wan waiting in bed, frowning at his datapad, when he came out. As Qui-Gon climbed into bed beside him, Obi-Wan let it slip onto the bedside table and then rolled toward him.

They fitted themselves together in a long-familiar configuration: one of Qui-Gon’s long arms wrapped beneath and around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, the other hand caressing his back from top to bottom; Obi-Wan’s lower arm folded between them as he cupped the back of Qui-Gon’s neck, the top arm wrapped around Qui-Gon’s waist; their feet tangled, their bodies pressed together belly to belly. Qui-Gon nuzzled his partner and kissed one eyelid, then turned his attention to those soft, wet lips. He intended to nip the lower one, but Obi-Wan beat him to it, catching Qui-Gon’s own full lip between sharp teeth and then tracing the upper one with his tongue and pushing inside. Qui-Gon opened to him and drank him down.

They traded the kiss back and forth for some time, hands roaming, touching, pinching, squeezing, gliding over smooth skin and raised scars both accidental and intentional. Soft contented noises came from both of them and they started to move against each other, legs tangled, feet caressing each other—

“Ow,” Obi-Wan complained, jerking one foot away. “You need to cut those toenails of yours, My Master. They’re like vibroblades.”

Qui-Gon looked abashed. “Sorry, love. Shall I do it now?”

“And lose the moment? I think not. Just be mindful.”

“Yes, master,” Qui-Gon replied with amused contrition.

“Where were we? Oh, right,” he went on, ignoring Qui-Gon’s amusement and turning his attention back to the kiss. After a few more minutes, Qui-Gon decided he’d had enough of that, grabbed Obi-Wan tightly and rolled over on his back, pulling Obi-Wan, and all the covers, on top of himself. Hopeless entanglement led to several moments of mutual thrashing before they managed to extricate themselves and straighten the covers out.

When they had, Obi-Wan collapsed back on top of Qui-Gon, pushing a lungful of air out of him.

“What d’ye mean ‘oof’?” Obi-Wan protested. “Are you trying to tell me I’ve gained weight?”

“I’m trying to tell you that you caught me on an inhale,” Qui-Gon replied mildly. “Now kiss me again. My interest has flagged.”

“Your interest or your ability? Never mind. I’ve got other ways to get you ‘interested’ again.” He slithered down Qui-Gon’s long body, under the covers, and soon there were more nibbles and licks, this time along his half-hard length. Qui-Gon, for some reason known only to his subconscious, found this less stimulating than it should have been, but not due to any lack of skill on Obi-Wan’s part. After a few minutes of unsuccessful attention, even Obi-Wan decided it was fruitless and worked his way back up out of the covers, licking and nibbling as he went.

“Kisses it is,” he sighed with an air of being put-upon, straddling Qui-Gon’s hips and leaning over him as though he were prey. As their lips met again, a rude but unmistakable noise erupted from under the covers and Qui-Gon broke into laughter. Obi-Wan merely looked annoyed and began to fan the covers.

“What a wonderful smell you’ve discovered, Master Jinn,” he said, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Of course, _you’ve_ never farted in bed,” Qui-Gon observed with mild sarcasm.

“No, but I have _passed gas_ ,” Obi-Wan countered prissily. “Must you be so crude?”

Qui-Gon raised an eyebrow. “At the moment, it’s crude matter that’s my focus, I’m afraid. Thus my reality,” he replied, pinching Obi-Wan’s ass. Obi-Wan yelped and Qui-Gon laughed, letting loose another toot.

“I guess this means you’re topping tonight,” Obi-Wan observed while fanning the covers again.

“Is that what you’d like?”

“I think if I try to top, I’m likely to be rudely expelled. And the last thing you need is to be pumped full of more gas.”

Qui-Gon began to laugh heartily, with the expected results on the opposite end, which broke Obi-Wan up too, until they were both clutching one another, helpless with  hilarity. They wound down slowly, Qui-Gon into a low chuckle punctuated by occasional snorts, and Obi-Wan into snickers muffled against Qui-Gon’s chest. Qui-Gon wiped his eyes with one hand and with the other, cupped the back of Obi-Wan’s head. Obi-Wan kissed his chest then looked up, eyes glittering with amusement, resting his chin on the spot he’d just kissed.

“That was very distracting. I think we’re going to have to start all over again.”

“How awful,” Qui-Gon replied. “Come here, love.”  Qui-Gon wrapped his arms around Obi-Wan and rolled them both over again, this time without entangling them in the covers. Propping himself up, he began kissing and nibbling his way along Obi-Wan’s neck, from beneath his ear around the edge of his beard and down his throat. Obi-Wan purred his approval when that hot mouth sealed over his skin and drew a passion mark on it.

The sound went straight to Qui-Gon’s cock, arousing him in a way that Obi-Wan’s touch had not. His partner seemed to sense that and continued making noises as Qui-Gon licked and bit at his nipples. Obi-Wan sank his hands into Qui-Gon’s mass of hair, gripping tightly, and held him there, writhing and bucking beneath him in an increasingly enthusiastic manner, which aroused Qui-Gon even more.

Finally, Qui-Gon reared up on his knees, pulled the drawer of their bedside table open with a gesture, and impatiently levitated everything in it to get to the lube. The remainder of the contents clattered to the floor as Qui-Gon squeezed out a palmful and tossed the tube onto the bed beside him. Obi-Wan laughed a little breathlessly, watching him with keen anticipation. “A bit eager, My Master?” he taunted, arching an eyebrow and drawing his knees up.

Qui-Gon merely growled, grabbed one of Obi-Wan’s ankles and raised it to his shoulder, then reached down to work a slick finger into that tight hole. Obi-Wan’s answering moan was guttural as he threw back his head and clutched the sheet. Qui-Gon crooked his finger, drawing out another moan and a following gasp as his finger found the hard little bump inside. He watched Obi-Wan’s back arch with satisfaction as he rubbed over the spot.

“Your hands, Qui! I love your hands!” he moaned, rocking onto the invading digit.

Qui-Gon worked it in and out with care, but he was trembling now, his hands shaking as he groped for the lube and spread more on his fingers, pushing two inside where one had loosed the muscle. Obi-Wan shied away with a hiss and then down hard, impaling himself with a cry. Qui-Gon curled both fingers again and Obi-Wan arched and gasped as though lightning-struck. As always, Qui-Gon thought he had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Oh gods, Qui, more! Please! More!” his lover begged.

But Qui-Gon made him wait, though he could barely stand it himself. He was fully erect now, the crown of his cock exposed, flushed and weeping fluid. But he wanted a taste of Obi-Wan first, wanted to capture that lush mouth and devour it. Fingers still working inside, he leaned over and pushed his tongue inside Obi-Wan’s mouth, mirroring the actions below. Obi-Wan answered with a similar hunger and a deep groan. They bit and licked at one another’s mouths greedily until finally Obi-Wan pushed him back on his knees and raised his other leg to Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

“Inside. Now,” he demanded.

Qui-Gon responded with a sly and fiendish grin that dropped away into an open-mouthed groan as he pushed himself inside, bending Obi-Wan under him as his cock slid home. Propped on his hands, he shuddered as Obi-Wan’s body enveloped him. “So good!” he gasped, “so good—” as he began to move.

Obi-Wan’s response was both vocal and physical. His hands closed on Qui-Gon’s arms, gripping tightly as he rocked to meet Qui-Gon’s thrusts. Amid their harsh breathing were Obi-Wan’s moans and cries, urging his lover on. For the first time in too long, they didn’t remind Qui-Gon of what he must have sounded like being tortured in that cell. And for the first time in too long, Obi-Wan seemed completely uninhibited again, lost in the present moment, in the sensations and emotions flooding both of them.

Obi-Wan dropped one shaking hand from Qui-Gon’s arm to his own cock, stroking and pulling as Qui-Gon drove into him until, finally, he threw back his head and cried out, coming in a ropy jet and spattering both of them. That was all Qui-Gon needed to spark his own orgasm, but the heat and light and taste of spice coming through the bond set him off as well, and the tightness of Obi-Wan’s muscles clamping around him. Shuddering, he emptied himself into Obi-Wan’s body with a harsh cry. Obi-Wan moved his legs from his lover’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon’s softening cock slipped from its place inside as he lowered himself on shaking arms, still gasping.

It was Obi-Wan who _oof_ ed this time. Still breathing hard, he brushed his fingers through Qui-Gon’s hair and panted, “That was wonderful, Qui, but you outweigh me by a third. Geroff, love,” and he pushed at Qui-Gon’s shoulders.

With a breathless chuckle, Qui-Gon rolled off and then snugged Obi-Wan close, nuzzling his neck and giving it quick, affectionate pecks. Obi-Wan’s skin smelled intoxicatingly of sweat and sex and tasted of salt. “You know,” he said between kisses, “I love all the other things we do, but sometimes there’s nothing like old, married love, with occasional mishaps,” he murmured in a contented voice.

By way of reply, he could almost hear Obi-Wan’s eyebrow rising. “And which of us is old, or married?” he asked with amusement, working an arm under Qui-Gon’s neck and smoothing down the wild tangle that was now the big man’s hair.

“Don’t be disingenuous, love. You know I’m old,” Qui-Gon replied in his ear then nibbled it.

“Not,” Obi-Wan countered. “But I’d marry you in a minute. Feels like I already have,” he sighed, still smoothing Qui-Gon’s hair.

Qui-Gon propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into Obi-Wan’s face. “Is that what you’d like? To saddle yourself with an old fool like me? When you could have anyone?”

“And do, occasionally.” Obi-Wan cracked. He pushed Qui-Gon over and rolled onto him, then straddled his hips and sat up. “I’m already happily saddled with you, _iji aijinn_. And equally delighted to ride or be ridden by you,” he added, moving suggestively against Qui-Gon’s groin. “What I’m saying is that I’d proclaim it formally, without reservations or hesitation, in front of everyone who cared to take note. If that’s what _you_ would like.” Obi-Wan touched his face, tracing the line of Qui-Gon’s badly broken nose with a finger, then the curve of his upper lip. “If it would convince you that I have no desire to leave you. Ever. Is that what it would take?”

Qui-Gon could only gape, struck speechless, his head whirling. “What—are you—do you mean—you’re quite serious, aren’ t you?” he finally stammered.

Obi-Wan, as Qui-Gon knew he would, chuckled and kissed him.

“As serious as a Hutt about money, My Master. Should we take ourselves off to the Registrar’s office tomorrow? Would that convince you? Or would you like to announce it and plan a formal ceremony among friends? Either way is fine with me.”

“Little Gods! You’re—you’re proposing?”  Qui-Gon’s voice was a strangled squeak.

Obi-Wan sat back, looking thoughtful behind his smile. “I suppose I am. But the choice is yours. I’m equally happy to stay as we are. But I want you to know how much I love you,” he finished, his hands framing Qui-Gon’s face. “I’ll do whatever you like. Whatever will convince you that I’ve no desire to leave you.”

Qui-Gon found his eyesight blurring and his hands shaking, and his heart filled to overflowing with both love and agony. It made his chest ache as though a knife were buried in it. That he should be offered this now—the irony! To conceal the pain, he pulled Obi-Wan down into his arms and brought their mouths together, intending to kiss him senseless. But Obi-Wan was not about to be distracted, apparently. He kissed Qui-Gon and leaned back again, with a grin that quickly faded on seeing Qui-Gon’s face.

“Oh, Qui,” Obi-Wan whispered, choking up himself when he discovered the tears trickling  from the corners of Qui-Gon’s eyes. He wiped them away with his thumbs, holding Qui-Gon’s face in his hands again. “You’re going to get tears in your ears, beautiful man. What’s wrong? I thought this would make you happy—”

“It does, _kosai_. It does,” Qui-Gon said in an equally choked voice, and pulled Obi-Wan down to him again, holding him tightly. “I wish—” He choked again and tried to breathe but it was as if Obi-Wan’s body—no, Obi-Wan’s generosity—were a ton of rock on his chest.

“What do you wish, Qui?” Obi-Wan said gently, stroking his face and kissing one of the rivulets of tears.

Somehow, Qui-Gon found air enough to fill his lungs and give himself a voice. “I wish my conscience would let me do this. I would like nothing more than to be your partner in every sense of the word.”

“But,” Obi-Wan said with finality, in a wistful tone.

“But,” Qui-Gon agreed, and there was sadness in his voice. “For so many reasons. That fear I have of you leaving me, Obi-Wan—that fear is my own. It has nothing to do with you. That’s my own attachment to what I want for the future.  I’m responsible for it and I must wrestle with it myself. You have never given me reason to doubt how much you love me. That should be enough for me. It will be, someday when I’m a better man, a better Jedi.”

“You are already a far better man and Jedi than I could ever hope to be, Qui,” Obi-Wan said softly and touched Qui-Gon’s lips with a finger when he started to protest. “No, you are, Qui. You have such a big heart, and it’s always wide open.” Obi-Wan brought his mouth down on Qui-Gon’s and teased his lips open tenderly. The kiss was warm, and sweet, and forgiving, it seemed to Qui-Gon, full of love and acceptance, like their bond.

“If my heart is open again, it’s because of you,” Qui-Gon said when the kiss ended. “I’m so lucky to have you, now, in this moment. I shouldn’t ask for more.”

“You can. I’d give it,” Obi-Wan replied, looking into his eyes. 

Qui-Gon sighed. “Such a temptation, you little devil. I won’t tie you down, _kosai_. I won’t pretend I have that right. Instead, I’ll be content as we are, with everything you give me.”

“As you wish, My Master,” Obi-Wan agreed quietly, resting his head on Qui-Gon’s shoulder. He kissed the spot beneath Qui-Gon’s ear and settled into his lover’s arms. Very shortly, Qui-Gon heard his breath settle into the slow, deep rhythm of sleep. His mouth still tasted of Obi-Wan’s signature sweet tea, as it always did after they’d made love, the bond between them filling Qui-Gon with his partner’s sense of contentment and trust. How could he want more?

And yet, he did.

Not many in the Order married or formed the kind of permanent bond he had with Obi-Wan, not now. Those who did, did so almost always for cultural reasons, like Knight Mundi, and that was the only acceptable “excuse” in the minds of most of their contemporaries. It smacked of attachment, a sin against the Code. And yet, as Obi-Wan had pointed out, and Mace was so loathe to admit, that was a relatively new development in the history of the Jedi Order. Obi-Wan’s namesake had been a married man, with children. The temple had once been full of couples who had pledged themselves to each other and to the service of the Order, and borne and raised children who had become Jedi as well.

Having been companionless nearly all his life, Qui-Gon wondered how different his own life would have been with a steadfast partner—not just padawans—like Obi-Wan at his side. The best years of his life, the sanest, had been with this man, and with the young lad Obi-Wan had been. Humans, at least, he thought, were more resilient with that kind of mutual support. Perhaps all sentient beings were.

But there was no question of the two of them binding themselves to each other. Not now. Not with what Qui-Gon saw in the future, and for so many other reasons. So he would have to enjoy what he had now, for however long he had it, and then let go.

Obi-Wan muttered in his sleep and threw an arm across Qui-Gon’s chest, nestling into the pillow beside his master.

“Love,” Qui-Gon said softly, jostling him a little. “Obi-Wan.”

“Hmmm?” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“You’re on my hair, love,” Qui-Gon said gently.

“Sorry,” he muttered without opening his eyes, and rolled over, nestling his backside against Qui-Gon’s hip and falling back into sleep.

Qui-Gon smiled, and rolled over too, fitting himself around the warm, lithe body of the person he’d grown to love so. He wrapped his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and pulled him close, then stroked the soft red-gold hair and rested his hand on Obi-Wan’s head, kissing the back of it. He gestured at the light, which doused itself, and pulled the covers up over both of them, cocooning them both in warmth and darkness and the haven of each others arms. If this was all he had, all he ever had, it would be enough.


End file.
